Wedding Woes
by MBP
Summary: On the morning of his wedding to Katie, George has doubts... takes place in the SU, obviously.
1. I Want You Back

_Disclaimer: There's no way anyone thinks I could possibly own Harry Potter because I obviously do not. It's all JKR's. _

_A/N: I'm not 100% sure how many chapters this will be, but I had to dive back into this world again. I'd intended for a one-shot, but it's already taken on a life of its own. The angst is back, I suppose. This is the Sober Universe, clearly, but it's not my alternate WFH universe… I needed Arthur for this one._

"It's going to be a wonderful wedding," George said determinedly. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and nodded forcefully. Then he sighed. There was no use.

Everyone else was excited – or at least pretending to be. Everyone else was rushing around getting ready – or at least pretending to be. Everyone else wasn't missing the one person who would have made this complete. Well… no. That wasn't entirely fair. They were all missing Fred. George had come far enough by now to know that Fred wasn't his loss alone. But on days like today … and on their birthday… it sure felt that way.

Four years. Four years with no one else to complete his thoughts or sentences. Four years with only one stitched jumper at Christmas. Four years of waking up every morning and still not believing this could be real. And now… now it felt like he was leaving Fred behind for good.

On a rational level, George knew it was ridiculous for him to feel this way. He knew Fred would want him to marry Katie. He knew Fred would laugh at him for even the thought of giving any of this a second thought merely because of _his _absence.

And he wasn't – giving it a second thought, that is. What he _was_ doing right now was staring into the mirror and wishing fervently that he could see his face replicated somewhere else again just for this one day.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. No. he couldn't do this to himself – not today. If there were anyone who deserved an outburst like this less than Katie, on the most important day of her life, well, he couldn't imagine who that might be.

But he still couldn't smile. He needed to get out of this flat, to get back to the Burrow, to get someplace where he could straighten out his thoughts before he had to face his bride. Taking a moment to dash off a quick note, he wrote, "Off to get ready at my mum's. Next time I see you, you'll be a Weasley, too. Can't wait. Love."

He slipped on a jumper, a huge G stitched to the center of his chest, and made sure to close the door quietly behind him. Once he was out of bounds, he disapparated, reappearing within sight of the Burrow. He stood for a moment, looking at it, before shaking his head and turning again.

This time, when he opened his eyes, his breath left him in a rush. He'd known where he was going. He'd even known he'd end up here at some point today … but he still hadn't expected to be there so early… or so alone. Nevertheless, he straightened his shoulders, sighed, and walked over to the one grave he never thought he'd have to visit on his wedding day.

For a long moment, George stood, staring at the headstone, wishing as he had so many countless times over the past four years that Fred could somehow hear him. He wanted to believe it so badly. It would have made things inexpressibly easier. But he couldn't. No matter how many times he'd been here, he'd never been able to say a word.

The only sounds that surrounded him were the flutter of wings as owls brought flowers to deposit on the surrounding graves and the occasional chirp as they flew away, and George wondered when he'd ever feel enough closure to leave again when he heard the crackling of twigs behind him.

He swallowed with an audible click before turning to come unsurprisingly face to face with his older brother.

He gave him a brief nod, before turning his gaze back on his twin's name. Percy followed suit, and after a moment, the sound of wings was accompanied by Percy's suddenly harsh breathing. George held himself very still, hoping Percy would be able to get himself back under control quickly. This was the _last _thing he needed right now.

But Percy showed no signs of calming down, and suddenly, to George's horror, he began to speak… but not to George.

"I know I've apologized a million times." The words came in a rush, and George found himself trying mightily and spectacularly unsuccessfully to tune them out. "But Fred," Percy continued, struggling and failing to keep his voice steady, "I need you to know how sorry I am for today. George probably mentioned this already, but it's his wedding today, and, well, he's made me best man. And it should be you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that it isn't you. I'd give anything – _anything _for it to be you. I just – I needed you to know that."

His words hit George squarely in the solar plexus, and suddenly, he was the one gasping for air, and then he was hunching over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Percy's arm was around him moments later, and he guided him over to the nearest bench. For a little while, they sat in silence while George fought to control his breathing. He hadn't had a moment like this in months now, and he scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I'm fine," he tried to grind out, but his voice sounded strangled in his own ears, and Percy squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Percy mumbled. "I didn't mean to do this to you… I guess I just figured that wouldn't come as much of a surprise or anything. I really _am _glad you made me best man, George. You _know _that. You know how honored I was. I _am_. I just… sometimes it feels wrong. And that's still my own fault."

George started violently. "That's rubbish, Percy," he said harshly, and even though he wouldn't lift his head, he somehow knew Percy was listening, so he continued. "We've been over this and over this. Nothing is your fault. Stop taking the blame when you aren't wrong. You didn't do anything _wrong_. I wish Fred were here, too. I was born with a best man, and he was supposed to be here today, but… " _he isn't_, echoed in his mind, and he choked on the words. His grip on his hair tightened as his eyes welled up, and he swallowed hard.

Percy had shifted in his seat, but he heard the tears in his brother's voice, and he shifted back. Putting his arm across George's shoulders, he whispered, "if I have to stop feeling guilty for not doing anything wrong, then do you think maybe you could stop feeling guilty for being happy about today?"

For a long moment, Percy wasn't sure whether or not his words even sank in, but then he felt a tremor course through George, and George whispered, "I can't – I can't help it. How can I be happy about getting married when he – when he never will? How can I be _happy_ when he's not here?"

Percy's grip on his younger brother tightened, and he whispered, "Because he'd want you to be. And no one knows that better than you do."

George sighed shakily and finally uncovered his face. "I do," he said quietly, turning to look at Percy.

Percy's own eyes were watery, but he smiled.

"Save it for Katie," he said, and George almost smiled back.

"That was almost another joke, Perce," he said, getting to his feet and reaching out a hand to help Percy to his. "You're filling the role nicely."


	2. Brothers in Arms

_A/N: See? I really am writing again._

Being at Burrow should have been easier than being at the graveyard. It didn't take George much time to figure out that this wasn't the case at all. When he and Percy walked into the kitchen, the first sight that greeted them was Molly weeping over the dishes. Before she could notice their presence, George backed right out the door.

He was hardly even aware that he was racing through the gardens, racing away from his mother's grief, when he heard Percy panting his name behind him. Slowing to a halt, he turned. Percy was grasping his side, his face flushed and his glasses slipping down his nose… but his eyes understood.

"Why don't you go to Shell Cottage?" he suggested, and George stared at him for a moment. He couldn't formulate any words to even answer because he was stunned. Stunned because he'd had no direction when he'd run, just the overwhelming desire to get away. Stunned because somehow Percy knew that. Stunned because he knew that he'd have ended up at Shell Cottage whether Percy had said this or not. But mostly stunned because he suddenly knew for sure that he'd made the right choice choosing Percy.

Finally, he nodded, and Percy backed away, a look of slight satisfaction on his face.

"Good," he muttered before turning to go back to the house and deal with his mother. He didn't want to, but he knew it was better him than George. He didn't know many things for sure, but he knew this.

George found himself staring at Shell Cottage for a long time before he gathered the nerve to go up to the door. He knew Bill would welcome him in, but for some reason, he was wary of his oldest brother right at this moment. He wasn't sure why he was even here. He'd just known that this was the right place to go if he weren't going to stay at the Burrow.

He sighed. Bill would understand. At least he hoped so.

He knocked on the door, and when Fleur's face appeared between the curtains, he even tried to force a smile, but he knew from the crease between her brows that it was a fairly unconvincing show. She opened the door and tried for a smile of her own, but her hug was tighter than usual, and she whispered, "We – we are very 'appy for you."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes, but he found himself looking away quickly even as he tried to marshal his voice into some order of normalcy when he asked "is Bill around?"

Fleur nodded quickly, and she left the room. George sank onto the couch then, and he leaned his head back, trying to force himself to relax though he knew how futile that was going to be. And before he could even practice his deep breathing techniques, he heard the padding of tiny footsteps, and he opened his eyes, a smile instinctively spreading across his face.

"Hi, Vic," he said, opening his arms to his small niece. Victoire beamed and climbed into George's lap. He hugged her tightly, allowing himself to forget for a moment just why he was there and breathing in the scent of wildflowers that always seemed to emanate from her long silky hair.

She was turning to him, her eyes wide, about to speak when Bill walked in. A slight smile creased his face when he took in the sight of George holding his daughter, and he sat in the armchair beside the couch.

"So to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit on today of all days?" he asked, deliberately keeping his voice light. He wasn't stupid. He could sense the sadness just beneath the calm. But he hoped he could somehow talk his little brother out of his gloom without even addressing it in the first place.

But George sighed, and even though Victoire nestled into his arms even more comfortably, his voice was unsteady when he said, "I – I had to go see him this morning."

Bill shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and his lips parted, but before he could ask a question, George said quickly, "It was all right. It really was. Until – until Percy showed up."

He didn't need to say more because Bill's eyes widened, and George knew he understood.

"Are you both – all right?" George could hear what he wasn't asking, and he nodded reluctantly.

"We – we talked. And I know he gets it. But I didn't – I wasn't – the last thing I wanted to do today was have a _conversation _about all of this, Bill. Is it too much to just want to talk to Fred? It – it never _used _to be…" George trailed off, his jaw clenched, his face turned away, but he couldn't hide the harsh sounds of his breathing.

Victoire stated to squirm out of his arms, and once she'd slipped down from his lap and run to her father, George hunched forward, burying his face in his hands.

Bill hugged Vic and watched his brother for a moment, his eyes pained.

"Vic, sweetie," he said, his voice low, "go find Maman."

She looked from him to George and decided this wasn't the time to argue, slipping from the room quietly. Before George even realized she'd gone, Bill moved from the armchair to the couch. He didn't touch George, but he said softly, "It shouldn't be too much just to want to talk to him, George, but – well – you know you're not the only who wants that. You've known that for a long time."

A quick jerk of his head showed Bill that George heard him, but for a long time, he didn't respond. Then, his voice strangled, he choked out, "of course I know that. But how is that the point _today_? Why can't today just be about how much _I _want to talk to him? Why does _today _have to be about anyone else?"

Even in the safety of his arms, George knew he sounded like a petulant child, and the back of his neck felt hot, but it was too late to take back what he'd said. Slowly, he lifted his head, almost afraid to look at Bill, ashamed by the condemnation he was sure he'd find in his oldest brother's eyes.

But he didn't. Because Bill was looking at him with so much understanding that George found his eyes stinging, and he had to look down again quickly, hoping Bill hadn't noticed.

It didn't take long, though, for him to realize that he had.

"It isn't too much to ask…" Bill started to say, but he found himself trailing off as he choked slightly on the words. He cleared his throat and sat for a moment, his hands fisting. He _needed _to be able to do this.

He swallowed with an audible click and said, "Today should be about you, George. You and Katie. Don't feel bad for feeling that way. And part of that was always going to be about Fred, too. We all get that. And it's not fair for you to have to deal with everyone else's sadness when you're sad on a day when you should only be happy. I mean my wedding day was in the middle of a war, and I still even managed to only be happy…"

He stuttered to a stop when George suddenly looked up again, and this time he didn't try to hide the tears that were now rolling down his face.

"It was _your _wedding," he choked, "when we started talking about our own. Of _course_ you weren't sad at your wedding. It was the _beginning _of the war."

George's shoulders were heaving with the sobs he was trying to contain, and Bill couldn't keep his distance any longer. He shifted closer on the couch and put an arm around his younger brother. Almost against his will, George found himself turning and burying his face in Bill's shoulder.

For a long time, words were impossible. When George finally felt calm enough, he pulled back and swiped his sleeve quickly across his face.

"Sorry," he muttered, but Bill shook his head slightly.

"Stop," he said shortly. He glanced at the clock on the wall and slowly got to his feet and then turned and reached a hand out to George who looked at it for a moment before taking it and allowing Bill to haul him to his feet.

For a moment, they stood there in silence until George surprised both of them by throwing his arms around Bill and hugging him.

"Thanks," he whispered. "I – I think I can go back to Katie now."

Bill nodded, not trusting himself to say anymore.

_A/N: Obviously there will be a lot more of Bill in the next chapter. Hope you're all enjoying the angst. ;-)_


	3. I'll Cover You

_A/N: So it's been almost three months… but I finally have time again. Expect more updates, and… I'm sorry._

Once George had gone, Bill took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He shook his head slightly, trying to rid it of the image of his distraught younger brother. He couldn't let himself think about that now. There was too much to do, too many things he needed to take care of.

When Fleur hesitantly walked back into the room with Victoire in her arms, Bill forced a smile.

"I think he's gone back to Katie where he belongs," he said, trying to force a note of levity into his voice – and trying not to cringe at how horribly false it sounded. Fleur studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. If there were anyone who could read her prickly husband's mood, it was her – and the one thing she knew right now was that the last thing he wanted to do was talk.

"Are you ready to go to the Burrow?" she asked, and he nodded, but she couldn't miss the fear that flickered through his eyes so quickly that she almost missed it. She wasn't entirely sure what he had to be afraid of, but when they arrived at the Burrow and she took one look at her mother-in-law's red-tinged eyes, she understood.

But Bill went straight past where his mother stood at the pantry, glancing quickly over his shoulder as he muttered, "going out to help set up the chairs," hardly slowing his pace. He was already outside by the time Molly turned and gave Fleur a weak smile.

"Not such an easy morning for him, was it?" she asked, and Fleur was once again simultaneously alarmed and impressed by how well her mother-in-law still knew all of her children, and she nodded slightly.

"George – well, he came to see him. I do not sink it was ze easiest conversation."

Molly sighed, and her hand shook slightly as she waved her wand toward the cabinet across the room, and a platter came soaring to her. She only just managed to catch it, and Fleur found herself breathing a small sigh of relief. She wasn't sure this was the best time for Molly to be in the kitchen, but she knew better than to suggest otherwise.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy," Molly muttered as she began to supervise the various ingredients now pouring into yet another bowl, her back to Fleur. But she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice when she said, "Percy told me this morning that he ran into George at the – at the graveyard."

Fleur swallowed hard. She hadn't asked Bill what he and George had discussed, but this didn't surprise her. She just hoped that the worst was over – though one look at the set of Molly's shoulders told her that this might well be wishful thinking. She glanced out the windows to where she could only just see Bill, Ron and Charlie setting up the chairs, and even from this distance, she knew that their conversation was no easier. Sighing, she turned her attention to Victoire, trying to engage her in a game of bilboquet, moving her out of the way of anything breakable. Victoire gripped her tongue with her teeth, the small rubber ball flying out wildly on the string before she smacked at it with the paddle, occasionally making contact. Fleur found herself dodging the ball and managing to forget – at least for a little while.

* * *

Bill didn't say a word to either Charlie or Ron when he joined them in the orchard, and he placed his wand out of the way on the grassy hill as he set about silently arranging the chairs. Charlie noticed this out of the corner of his eye and sighed. Whenever Bill chose manual labor over magic, it meant that there was something on his mind, and he knew from a quick glance at his big brother's face that he would have to be the one to sort this out. A closer look at Bill, though, told him that it wasn't time yet, so for the next few minutes, the three brothers worked together in silence.

Ron flicked his wand at the hangings and managed to make a colossal mess of them as he attempted to drape them through the trees. Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you let me try that?" he asked, directing his own wand at the heap of material. Ron scowled at Charlie and was turning to Bill to complain when he realized that Bill wasn't looking at either of them and was still lifting piles of chairs and moving them into place. He belatedly noticed the wand on the grass as he blurted, "Bill, why don't you just…"

But Bill ignored him, and now Ron turned to Charlie, who was eyeing Bill with growing concern.

"Ron," Charlie said, his eyes still on their older brother, "why don't you go give Mum a hand with the pie…" but Ron shook his head.

"I can clean up my own mess," he started to say indignantly. "You don't have to send me to Mum."

But before he could lift his wand, he felt someone tugging on the hem of his shirt, and he looked down to find Teddy covered in marshmallow, crumbs and some other unidentifiable substance.

He glanced from his brothers to Teddy and back again before sighing and gingerly taking Teddy by the hand. "Maybe I will go inside," he said, a hint of dread in his voice. "I don't know what, exactly, he got into, but I bet Mum isn't happy about it…"

He was halfway to the door to the kitchen when they all heard Molly's shriek, and Ron flinched, his shoulders hunching up toward his ears as he unconsciously pulled Teddy closer to him, forgetting the mess.

Once they were inside and Charlie was reasonably confident that no one else was hovering nearby, he turned to the rapidly diminishing pile of chairs. Before Bill could grab another six, he quickly swiped two and joined Bill in lining them up as precisely as possible. Bill still wouldn't look at him, but after two more trips in silence, he cleared his throat. Charlie's own movements slowed as Bill settled the next chair, his hands shaking as he ran them along the edge.

"George came by this morning," he suddenly said, and Charlie didn't miss how unnaturally raspy his older brother's voice was. But he nodded even as he lifted and resettled the chair he'd just put in place, still avoiding his eyes. And it seemed like the lack of eye contact loosened Bill's tongue because he said, "he was – it was awful, Charlie. This is supposed to be a happy day. I told him – I told him our wedding was happy, but he said of course it was because it was in the begin—" and he choked on the word. Charlie froze, his hands gripping the chair, and Bill hunched over the one he'd been holding, shaking his head so his hair fell forward into his face.

For a moment, the only sound filling the air was Bill's hoarse breathing as he struggled for control. Charlie couldn't help but notice despairingly that he didn't seem to be acquiring any, and after another moment, Charlie eased himself into the chair he'd been holding and waited, hoping Bill would take the hint and do the same.

It didn't seem like Bill could have done anything else. He slumped into the chair behind him and sat there in silence, still not looking at Charlie – which was fine with Charlie because he was trying his hardest not to look directly at Bill either. He couldn't help but sneak looks out of the corner of his eye, though, as he said slowly, "Well, I'm sure you made him feel better? Because it's not like he's called off the wedding or anything. And we all knew today was going to be tough for him anyway, right?"

Charlie almost kicked himself for asking a question at a time like this because even with his peripheral view, he could tell that Bill was in no condition to answer. But Bill sighed and shook his head.

"It isn't just that it's tough for him," he said tightly. "It's just – I didn't expect – I mean I know we all miss Fred everyday, but I didn't think today would be _this_ bad for – for _us_. I didn't expect George to come …" he trailed off here and ran his hand over his face. For a moment, Charlie thought he was about to look up at him, but he kept running his hand up and down, and Charlie realized his face had crumpled; Bill was just trying to hide that from him.

Charlie swallowed with an audible click. There was suddenly a lump in his throat, and he didn't know if he'd be able to say what he needed to. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"Of course it's hard," he said, wincing at how unnaturally deep his own voice sounded. But he plowed on. "But like you said… everyday is hard to a certain extent. And you can't feel bad for feeling bad… I know we all always want to be strong for George, but I'm sure you were when he was there. As for now… well… like you said… it's hard for all of us, not just him. It's … it's ok."

Bill still wouldn't look at his younger brother, but Charlie thought he detected a slight nod, and he sighed.

"We can make this day bearable for each other – and for Mum – but first, you've got to get this out of your system. So … I can go? If you want…" he trailed off uncertainly, but now Bill shook his head, and Charlie looked straight at him for the first time since they'd sat down together.

"Ok," he said quietly, and suddenly, Bill hunched forward and buried his face in his hands. Tentatively, Charlie reached over and placed his hand on his older brother's shoulder, squeezing hard when he felt it start to tremble.

They sat there like that for a few minutes until Bill's breathing finally started to ease, and then he rubbed his face again, but this time, he moved his hands away when he was done.

"Thanks," he said quietly, finally looking at his brother, and there was gratitude mixed with a tinge of embarrassment in his eyes, but Charlie just nodded briskly.

"Let's go inside," he said, his voice businesslike, but then his lips twitched. "I bet Mum has more work for us to do if we ask real nicely…"

Bill snorted. "And even if we don't."


End file.
